


4'33"

by vonseal



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Classical Music, Fluff, M/M, Musicians, Romance, Slow Burn, more tags will be updated as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: there is silence in sound, and there is beauty in differences.(bin is a musician. dongmin is a musician. they clash, and they love.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is based on a tumblr prompt i was given a while back, and i kept developing this idea and researching new pieces of composition to give me inspiration, and boom. i found one. 4'33". interesting. this is based on that.
> 
> (chaptered binu is rare for me, pls enjoy it while u can)

_Wherever we are_

_what we hear is mostly noise._

_When we ignore it, it disturbs us._

_When we listen to it, we find it fascinating[.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=baZGdj0xLYg)_

 

There was something wonderful about hearing a composition being brought to life.

Lines on a paper becoming sound. Little notes and breaks and rhythms filtering through the concert hall. It filled the space with beauty and elegance, and as the pianist's fingers moved quickly over the keys, Dongmin wondered just how many audience members were lost in the noises, lost in the creation the pianist had made.

Composers were able to jot their ideas down onto paper. Dongmin was steadfast in his belief that sometimes a good piece was not written, necessarily, by a grand musician. Sometimes it was a combination of intelligence and a good ear, and thus a piece would be born unto the world. Now, whether or not that musician could _play_ the piece well and accurately was up for debate, and it was a debate that Dongmin quite adored engaging in. He had heard one too many students of various instrumental backgrounds compose pieces that, on paper, seemed magnificent. He had heard one too many of those same students absolutely ruin the piece with bad timing, horrendous skills, a lack of proper technique.

Worse, even, was when students would fluff up a composition that was already a masterpiece. Dongmin did not want to hear Bach's _Double Violin Concerto_ played with electric violins in a frenzied, out-of-rhythm manner, nor did he believe that _Pluto: The Renewer_ should ever be an official addition to Holst's original suite.

It took a _good_ musician, a _brilliant_ musician, to play a piece of music in the way the composer had intended for it to be played. It took a _good_ musician, a _brilliant_ musician, to capture an audience while preforming an age-old piece, to inspire interest and adoration within music that others had already heard thousands of times before.

And, so, as the pianist on stage finished his final notes, Dongmin moved with the crowd, giving him the standing ovation he deserved, smiling widely and clapping so hard he thought his fingers would fall off. The man, jittery and nervous, tried to remain calm and composed, but his lips pulled up in a grin, and rather than bowing, he waved out at the audience. Dongmin rolled his eyes, but refused to stop clapping or to sit down.

After all, the man had created the song. Even if it was written years and years ago by some deceased composer, even if many others had played the song before _this_ pianist, had spruced it up or “perfected” it, _this_ pianist had still managed to capture the hearts of everyone in the concert hall, had stayed true to the original while still _creating_ a masterpiece.

Dongmin smirked as the audience died down, taking their seats in anticipation for the next pianist. He hadn't expected anything less from Myungjun. After all, he had liked to think that he taught Myungjun everything he knew about music and pianos and _creation_.

And Myungjun had succeeded. He brought the piece to life.

 

**♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪**

 

Backstage was loud, full of chattering and laughter and compliments. Dongmin pushed through the crowds of people greeting their loved ones, making his way to where a shorter, younger pianist stood, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs and glancing around at the faces. His eyes lit up when he caught sight of Dongmin, and he hurried forward, meeting the man halfway.

“Dongmin!” he exclaimed, his soft voice full of relief. “I thought you told me you'd be back here the moment it ended!”

“I tried,” Dongmin responded. He held out the flowers he had bought earlier, a lovely bouquet of yellow tulips. Myungjun gasped when he saw them, and Dongmin couldn't help but smile again. “I forgot I had left these in the car, though, and I wanted to give them to you.”

Myungjun cooed, taking the flowers and gently bringing them to his face in order to smell them. He seemed satisfied enough, glancing back over at Dongmin and grinning widely. “You didn't have to get me flowers, Minnie. It isn't like we're dating or anything. I mean, don't most people buy flowers for their loved ones, or for family members younger than they are?” Myungjun scoffed, but he certainly didn't look as if he was willing to relinquish his flowers so readily. “Besides, I would have rather you been in here the moment the concert ended.”

Dongmin hummed in response, nodding his head, and then he reached a hand out. “So I suppose you would rather not have them?”

“I never said _that!_ ” Myungjun pulled the flowers in closer to his chest, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “You've given them to me, so no take-backs, okay?”

Dongmin _liked_ Myungjun. As weird as he was, as unconventional as he could be, Dongmin truly cared for him as more than just a student. He was a valuable friend, someone who made Dongmin laugh easily and smile easily, and he had never quite met anyone like him.

There was an issue, however, when it came to music. Myungjun, for all of his skill and ability to follow the rules, often questioned _why_ he couldn't play music a different way. And, now, as Dongmin congratulated him on his best performance yet, he could tell that Myungjun's questions were coming yet again. The boy's face screwed up slightly in thought, and he shifted on each foot, before finally saying, “It was good.”

“It was _more_ than good. Your first performance in such a large venue, and you already played better than most of the men that came before you.”

Myungjun shook his head. “I don't think so. I think they played better. Years of practice, I guess.” He sighed. “It was pretty, I guess. It just felt rigid.”

Dongmin _knew_ what Myungjun was referring to. Back when he first started teaching Myungjun, at the urging of Myungjun's mother, who longed for Myungjun to become just as famous as Dongmin himself had become, Myungjun had always complained. He hated sitting rigid, he argued, he wanted to slouch more. He hated moving his fingers mechanically, he fussed, he wanted them to flow as if swimming through space. He especially hated following along with the notes and copying each and every one of them just as precisely as thousands of other pianists had before him.

He didn't understand the beauty in the technicalities, as Dongmin had come to. He referred to them as _chains_ , as barriers to creating _true_ beauty.

Dongmin didn't understand Myungjun's reluctance, however, to play a piece as the composer had written. He had offered different pieces for Myungjun to try, things that were more challenging or more bright, but Myungjun had found those compositions a little too difficult to follow along with. Besides, he had always stated, it was still _following_ rules someone else had set forth.

Myungjun had also expressed desire, once or twice, to give up the piano. Or, at least, to give up playing at concerts, even if he was getting astonishingly more amazing day by day, even if he was _going_ to make a name for himself, what with his skill set and his good looks, and (though Dongmin liked to remain humble most of the time) because of his status as Dongmin's student.

Already, other performers were looking over at the two, eyes remained solely on Dongmin himself. He heard whispers around him, people telling their families, “ _That's_ Lee Dongmin,” and he saw faces lit in recognition of his famous name. Dongmin had grown used to this, though, and so he regarded the people with disinterest.

Myungjun, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably were he stood. “It's getting crowded in here.”

“It's always been crowded in here,” Dongmin responded.

Myungjun bit down at his lip, obviously not enjoying all of the attention that was being directed towards Dongmin, and he muttered, “I think I want to quit the piano again, Dongmin.”

Not again. Dongmin held back a groan, knowing his initial, gut reactions typically forced Myungjun to angrily defend his position. He had learned that if he simply nodded his head and listened along to whatever it was Myungjun had to say, then it would all escape his system, and he would be good the very next day for his lessons and practices.

Still, he felt that he couldn't very well let it go, especially when he had fans around, fans who, upon hearing Myungjun's words, now looked down at the older boy in shock and surprise.

Dongmin's reluctance to take in another pupil was infamous. He had lost count of how many promising pianists he had turned down. He thought they _could_ make it, possibly, but he worried they would become as experimental and as dangerous as Myungjun was. There was always a desire in bright, passionate pianists to toss aside the rule book and to go their own route, to create their own brand of music.

Dongmin liked to think he only put up with Myungjun's interesting thoughts because they _were_ best friends, and because Myungjun would always cave and reluctantly admit that perhaps it was well enough to stick to what the guidelines directed.

Other people, those who were aware of Dongmin's lack of pupils, were listening now, as his one and _only_ pupil declared that he would quit right after such an amazing concert.

It wouldn't do good for Dongmin's image at all, and so Dongmin hurriedly pulled Myungjun aside, taking him down the hallway and finally finding somewhere empty enough to talk.

“ _Again_ ,” Dongmin echoed, using Myungjun's earlier words. “You want to quit the piano _again_.”

Myungjun nodded. He looked rather upset, hands gripping tightly at his flowers and his bottom lip chewed on once more.

(Dongmin hoped he had remembered his chapstick; Dongmin also hoped he would forgo his anxiety-ridden habit one of these days.)

“You know me better than anyone,” Myungjun pointed out. “Playing the piano is...it's fun, I guess, but I _hate_ taking people's works and just copying them. I mean, if I wanted to hear it, I could just look online for the song and listen to it that way. I spend _hours_ and hours in my music. I hardly get much sleep the week before a concert, because I'm pouring over the music, studying the notes, _ingraining_ it all into my brain. And then I play it at the concert, and it just sounds like every other person who's ever played that song.” He sighed, one hand coming up to run through his hair, and, in effect, ruining the slicked style Dongmin had worked on for an hour that morning. “I wanted to do something special and unique, and instead I'm just performing pieces that everyone's already heard a thousand times over.”

Dongmin nodded his head, acting as if he understood, while he truly did not. He thought each piece sounded beautiful. He thought he could listen to them a thousand times over, even if Myungjun hated that thought. He didn't know why Myungjun would want to change something that people already adored. “I've told you before, though, Myungjun, that what you do with the music is special and unique. You take this piece that, by all accounts, everyone _should_ be sick of. You take it, and you still manage to keep their interest. You should have seen the audience; they could hardly take their eyes off of you. _I_ could hardly take my eyes off of you.”

“And, yet, you still had time to gauge their reaction,” Myungjun teased.

Dongmin snorted. “Hardly any time at all. A quick glance around me, and the corner of my vision, showed that people were enchanted with the music that you play.” He smiled brilliantly. “And I overheard some of the men beside me discussing your talents. They play for the KBS Symphony Orchestra, and I _know_ they have an audition coming up later on this year.”

“I tried out for it last year. I didn't get in.”

“You've practiced harder this year, and you've finally played in a large venue!” Dongmin gave Myungjun's shoulder a small pat. “You shouldn't give up just because of one bad audition.”

Myungjun pursed his lips, obviously in thought, but when he met Dongmin's gaze, he dropped the expression and just gave a sigh instead. “It's not because of the audition,” he admitted, “I just don't feel as passionate about all of this as you are, as everyone else around here is. I don't know, I think I stick with it at this point because it makes my mom happy, and you _know_ she's impossible to please.”

Dongmin was well aware of the issues Myungjun had with his mother. Myungjun's older brother was a soccer player, traveling overseas and bringing home trophies. As long as Dongmin had known Myungjun, the boy had never won _anything_. He had auditioned for musicals, for choirs, for orchestras, and nothing ever seemed to go through. He had, at one period in his life, attempted to play soccer, to be just as his older brother was, but he ended up as the worst player on the team. He was twelve, with scraped knees and muddy shorts, when he cried to Dongmin that his mother had called him an _embarrassment_.

He had become Dongmin's pupil a few years later. He had confessed to Dongmin after some time that he resented Dongmin for a while, because Dongmin was talented, and Dongmin was smart, and Dongmin had earned the affection from Myungjun's mother. He was younger, too, and was instructing someone older than him how to properly play the piano.

It was an awkward time for them, and their friendship wavered often through the years, mostly after Dongmin grew frustrated with Myungjun's lack of sincerity with the piano, mostly after Myungjun grew frustrated with Dongmin's superior attitude.

But, still, they stuck together like glue. Dongmin was certain Myungjun would have left him a long time ago if only his mother had stopped paying for lessons, but, as it were, they had reluctantly continued their course.

Dongmin was happy they had. Myungjun was now his only _true_ friend, the only person who didn't regard him as a famous pianist, who instead would mutter under his breath about Dongmin's affinity for stupid minions and his fear of anything with zombies and his unnatural ability to burn everything he cooked. Now, it seemed, they were best friends, and Dongmin was unwilling to do anything to compromise their friendship.

Even if that meant he was forced to listen to Myungjun whine and complain about how _stupid_ these concerts were, he accepted it.

“If you don't like playing the piano, then there's no reason to force you into it,” Dongmin replied. “I think that you can go on to do great things, though. I think you can truly make a name for yourself, as I have.”

Myungjun frowned. “I don't care about doing that, though,” he said. “My brother did that, and I guess he got my mom's love and affection for him that way, but I just – I don't really want to be _famous_ , Dongmin.”

Dongmin stuffed his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “What do you want, then?”

“I don't know. Would it be dull of me to say _love_? And-and normalcy?” He played with the petals of the flowers. “I've told you before, I don't necessarily have a goal in life. I never did. It was always about pleasing my mom. I'd like to just settle down with money and-and I'd like to have a family. I don't know what it's like to have a _real_ one, Minnie.”

Dongmin had tried to mold Myungjun into a pianist, into someone who longed to play beautiful pieces up on a stage. Myungjun resisted, only caving when he felt there was nothing else that he was _good_ at, nothing else that would please his mother. Dongmin knew, though, the moment Myungjun was granted an opportunity to live comfortably without playing the piano, he would take it in a heartbeat.

Dongmin would feel like a failure if Myungjun were to leave him. As his one and only pupil, Myungjun _needed_ to make it big, to prove to the world that Dongmin could pass on his own rigid talents and make them just as famous as he was himself. If Myungjun left before he was scouted into an orchestra of sorts, then it would all be for naught, and Dongmin's more conventional ways might be tossed aside as _useless_ and _worthless_.

Just as much as Myungjun needed Dongmin for love, Dongmin needed Myungjun for acceptance.

“You'll have one, soon,” Dongmin promised. He smiled again, gently, and hooked arms with Myungjun. “In any case, maybe hanging around all of these old men makes you a little depressed.”

“A little,” Myungjun admitted.

“It's a good thing, then, because I have us reservations at your favorite seafood place.” Myungjun's eyes widened, sparkling with hope, and Dongmin continued, “The one with the private rooms and the really good octopus-”

“You booked as a room?” Myungjun squealed, jumping up once and jostling his flowers. “You're the _best_ , oh my gosh, what time are we supposed to be there at? Should we go ahead and go now?”

Dongmin laughed, pleased that he had managed to lift Myungjun's spirits (and, at the same time, curb the doubts and hesitation Myungjun consistently wrestled with). “I told them we would be there anytime before eight.” Dongmin checked his watch, nodding when he noticed it was only a little past seven. “I can drive us down there, if you're all done here.”

“Am I _ever_ ,” Myungjun muttered, dragging Dongmin back down the hallway. “It's so stuffy in here, and I need to go before I'm cornered by someone else congratulating me on my playing.”

Dongmin gave a slight tsk of his tongue as he was pulled along through the backstage area. “You deserve to be congratulated,” he pointed out. “You did very well.”

Myungjun didn't answer him, save for a small mumble of thanks, but even from his spot, Dongmin could tell that his words were well-received. Myungjun's ears were bright red and his face was beginning to get flushed, too. He was always like that with compliments, Dongmin thought with a smile, always denying that he did well, but blushing like a fool regardless. It was one of his quirks, one of the reasons Dongmin was so fond of him.

Myungjun _was_ passionate, as much as he tried to tell himself he wasn't. Dongmin didn't know if the passion was from playing the piano, or if it was from simply being shown affection, but he decided that no matter what, he loved Myungjun just fine.

He only hoped that, maybe one day, Myungjun would grow to understand the life that he brought into a composition, the beauty he created armed with only an instrument, the way everyone held onto his every note. Because while he was a perfect friend, he was not yet a perfect musician.

Dongmin longed to change _him_ , just as he longed to change the rest of the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so hopefully this is off to an okay start! bin will make his appearance next chapter. (and if you're a fan of my other works, mistake should be finished by early next week!)
> 
> catch me on the flippity flip [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im awful with binu. this sucks. fair warning about the suckiness.

 

_One of the audience affirmed publicly that my performance was not surprising_

_for he had distinctly seen, while I was playing my variations_

_the devil at my elbow, directing my arm and guiding my bow._

_My resemblance to the devil was a proof of my origin[.](https://youtu.be/l87Fkcx_SCs)_

 

Dongmin had considered himself to be an extremely dedicated student, back when he had not yet fully mastered the piano. He practiced for days on end, fingers sore and hurting by midnight, but determined already, at such a young age, to become nothing but the _best_ piano player possible. He had assumed most of the professionals were similar. He had assumed that most of the students he saw were similar, too.

He assumed most of them were _not_ Myungjun.

“It's time for a break!” the older boy announced, not even half an hour after completing his warm-ups. He giggled at the exasperation written across Dongmin's face, then stretched his arms out into the air over his head. The t-shirt he wore rode up, displaying a sliver of sun-kissed skin before Myungjun tugged it back down again, muttering out a soft apology as he stood from his position.

Dongmin glanced down at his watch, then back up at his student. “Myungjun,” he complained, “we still have several _hours_ left to work on this next piece. You've barely just arrived here!”

“And already I feel overworked.” Myungjun took Dongmin's shocked silence as opportunity to close his music book and set it aside. He scrambled over the piano bench, grabbing Dongmin's hands and tugging on them. “I figured we can go try this cute shop that opened up recently down the road from that ramen place I really enjoy.”

“I'm being paid by your mother to _teach_ you. I can't do my job if we're off getting food.”

Myungjun scoffed, renewing his efforts to pull Dongmin away from the piano. “My mom should expect something like this. Anyway, I don't have another recital for a month or two, right? Plenty of time to tone up on my skills then!” As if he noticed Dongmin's uncertainty, he whined, “I'm a fast learner, Dongmin! You know that more than anyone. I'll learn whatever piece you give me in a full week, but right now I'm hungry, and I'm sure you are, as well.”

He wasn't _wrong_ , necessarily. Dongmin had given up breakfast that morning in an effort to find the perfect piece for Myungjun's next recital, and he could feel his stomach quietly rumbling, begging him for some sort of nourishment.

Besides that, once Myungjun was determined _not_ to do something – especially when it came to piano practice – he wouldn't rest until he was happily wasting time on something _else_.

Dongmin was happy he was good friends with Myungjun. If not, he would have already gone insane by that point.

“What type of food is it?” he asked with a loud sigh, easily giving in to Myungjun's wide, hopeful smile.

The boy cheered and tossed Dongmin his coat before grabbing his own. “They really specialize in jokbal! And maybe we can have some soju-”

“It's still morning.”

“Never too early,” Myungjun retorted, and he was quick to open the door and gesture Dongmin outside.

Myungjun had always been of great interest to Dongmin. He experienced life differently; though they shared very similar experiences together now, Myungjun always had a unique way of seeing things. He found happiness, and beauty, and excitement in whatever he did. He also had no qualms with change, no frustrations with wasted money, no set _goals_ in life. He lived as he pleased, liked what he pleased, and said what he pleased.

Dongmin wasn't quite sure what got him to that point. His mother had been overbearing, relentless, _terribly_ mean and rude to him, and yet Myungjun never once let it wear him down totally.

Or, so his outward appearance suggested. Myungjun had never been keen on talking such serious matters. He brushed them aside and chose to focus on something more trivial and mundane.

_Piano_ usually fell into Myungjun's category of trivial and mundane.

“Dongmin, do you ever wonder _why_ it's so important at these recitals to remain perfectly true to the original piece?” As if on cue, Myungjun instantly delved into his topic of choice. He walked on the edge of the sidewalk, closest to the street, balancing as best he could with his arms outstretched. Dongmin, ever the worrier, walked right beside him, ready to catch him should he fall.

“There's nothing to wonder about,” Dongmin responded. “It's not a sort of performance for creating a new piece. It's for creating an older piece.”

Myungjun snorted, teetering slightly before gaining his footing. “You always say that,” he mumbled.

“Because you always ask the same question.”

“It's something I have always wondered, though, and you don't have a great answer for it.” Myungjun scooted closer to Dongmin, forgoing his adventure of traveling on the edge in order to now walk on the straighter, safer path. It was the path Dongmin appreciated; it was the path he _wanted_ Myungjun to love, as well. “I think playing an instrument should be about more than regurgitating a piece from memory. Lots of people can do that. I think it should be about expressing your _own_ feelings and emotions!”

Dongmin had always thought that Myungjun would work brilliantly in the artistic realm. While Myungjun claimed he wasn't the best of artists, Dongmin could see him at an easel, painting vivid colors onto his blank canvas, fully creating something that he would be able to call his own.

For now, though, he was a musician, because his mother said he had to take lessons and because Myungjun had no dreams to chase after for his own. It was sad, but so long as he remained a student, Dongmin would do his best to mold him into shape.

“You _can_ create your own piece,” Dongmin responded as they turned a corner. “It's just for the recitals, Myungjun.”

“I'd like to create my own piece for my next recital.”

Dongmin couldn't help but smile, and he patted Myungjun's back. “I don't think that would be allowed. Let's just focus on finding you a piece that will help propel you further into stardom.”

He could tell by the look on Myungjun's face that it wasn't ideal to be some sort of famous musician. Myungjun had never really been keen on the idea, but it was what he knew and what he was good at.

Dongmin felt selfish, sometimes, by continuing to push Myungjun into a lifestyle he didn't even want. He felt as if he didn't do any of it for Myungjun's sake; if he _did_ , then surely he would help him find some other lifestyle choice. But Dongmin wanted a student who was amazing, wanted a student he could pass his own teachings onto, and Myungjun was someone who wasn't _willing_ , necessarily, but was trapped in those lessons, anyway, forced into becoming a pianist by his crazy mother. It made Dongmin feel pity towards his friend.

And, yet, he continued to push and pull and prod. He aided Myungjun's mother in _her_ dreams, and kept any of Myungjun's secret, hidden goals locked away.

As they neared the shop, Dongmin continued to mull over his own personal demons, and so it was a shock when Myungjun suddenly shoved him with a gasp.

“What's wrong?” Dongmin questioned, shaken from his thoughts.

Then he heard it.

Music.

It was a gorgeous violin solo, coming from just down the street where a small crowd had gathered. Dongmin was absolutely clueless on the piece that was being played, but noted with slight interest that it sounded more contemporary. It was graceful, though, catching the attention of all who walked close by. Dongmin could see eyes sparkling with admiration, bodies leaned in further to catch an even richer tone of the beautiful violin.

Despite knowing nothing about the piece that was being played, Dongmin enjoyed it. It was bright and filled his chest with feelings of joy and peace. When Dongmin glanced over at Myungjun, he could tell it had the same affect, and he felt pleased he wasn't alone in his awe.

It was a masterpiece. It was a creation. It was an experience that Dongmin would never forget, standing there on the narrow sidewalk, surrounded by the smell of vehicle gasoline and sizzling street foods.

The song ended, and the people watching clapped enthusiastically. Myungjun joined along with them, and bumped hips with Dongmin, urging him to make the same noise.

Dongmin was more polite, more subdued, though he felt his chest almost ready to burst from the emotions the song had instilled within him.

The crowd parted, revealing a young man as the owner of the gorgeous tune. He was hardly older than Dongmin himself, it seemed, with messy brown hair and a smile that definitely matched the tone of the song he had just performed. He was genuinely happy to accept compliments, to thank people for watching, to bow at each and every person who gave him a thumbs-up.

Dongmin had opinions on street artists. He thought of them as washed-up musicians who couldn't quite make it into a more professional stage of life. He assumed they were begging for money at any chance they received, pleased to do nothing more than cave to the whims of the crowd in order to make a living.

But there was no collection plate here. In fact, as people tried to pass off money, the violinist rejected it all, shaking his head and smiling widely still, talking rapidly to whoever offered. It was intriguing; Dongmin was mildly interested in this man.

(He tried not to admit to himself that he also found the man exceedingly attractive – if he ignored his feelings, perhaps they would disappear.)

“Wow,” Myungjun exhaled, gripping onto Dongmin's sleeve. “Did you _hear_ that, Dongmin? He was amazing, wasn't he? Probably one of the best violinists I've ever heard in my life!”

Dongmin needed to be nonchalant about these things. It wouldn't do good to betray his inner feelings, the crush that may or may not have been slowly blossoming in his chest, watered with those emotions of happiness that the man had already introduced to him. So he shrugged as a reply to Myungjun's question. “I've seen better at concerts.”

“You've seen _professional_ at concerts. You've seen stodgy old men sit around and rate each other over how well each one played the exact same piece of Paganini.” Myungjun pointed a finger in the violinist's direction, gesturing at him, adding, “I think that was a western piece. Some pop song I've heard on the radio before.”

Dongmin's nose scrunched up. “He played a modern pop song on his violin?”

“Yeah, because _you're_ the only one who doesn't appreciate that sort of thing,” Myungjun grumbled. “You and the stodgy old men.”

“I never said I didn't appreciate it. I just...” Dongmin trailed off, still staring at the man before him, who was now packing up his violin. “It's different than what I'm used to, I guess.”

Myungjun nodded. “Because you're used to stodgy old men.”

“Stop-”

Before he could get another word out, however, Myungjun began to pull at his arm for the second time that day; this time, he was leading Dongmin toward the violinist. “Let's go say hey!” Myungjun exclaimed. “Let's go tell him who you are! If he's _that_ good with the violin, I'm sure he's bound to know, anyway!”

It was true; typically people who were heavily engaged in the musical realm knew of Dongmin's name, of his notoriety and skill. Even street musicians were aware of who Dongmin was, and Myungjun regularly took advantage of that fact in order to strike up conversation with any performers he thought were exceptionally talented.

(Dongmin sometimes suspected Myungjun would run off and become a street performer himself. Myungjun had always denied that, though he teased it would be preferable to playing in concert halls. “But,” he would sighed loudly, “pianos are too heavy to lug through the streets of Seoul.”)

Dongmin didn't want to be recognized by a street performer usually, and especially not with this one. _This one_ was different than the others; he looked charming, with a wide, sweet smile and a soft gaze. He was talented, too, and seemed kind, and Dongmin didn't wish to make a fool of himself in front of such a man.

He was famous for playing the piano, and Myungjun always joked he was secretly famous for his awful luck in the dating field.

So he tried to escape Myungjun's grasp, not very willing to look like an idiot today, but he found that the older boy was surprisingly strong for how small he looked, and it was impossible to halt Myungjun's determined stride forward. Before Dongmin knew it, he was in front of the most handsome man he had ever seen in his life, and he had nothing at all to say.

Myungjun was great with small-talk, however, and so he quickly started up the conversation. “That was _amazing!_ ” he announced, and the violinist looked up from where he was still packing, appearing both startled and slightly confused. When he noticed Myungjun and Dongmin standing there, though, he smiled again, that same, gorgeous smile, and straightened up.

He was tall and had a good sense in fashion, and that made Dongmin's heart beat all the faster.

“You think so?” the violinist asked, voice light and a little higher-pitched than Dongmin would have assumed just by looking over the man's appearance.

Dongmind was still unable to talk, unable to answer the question posed, refusing to look _dumb_ , and so Myungjun responded in his place. “I did! I mean, we _both_ did – I recognized the song, too! I've heard it play on the radios here. I never heard it like _that_ , though! It was such a cool twist, and it was just lovely to hear! Wasn't it, Dongmin?”

Given the chance to talk, Dongmin cleared his throat, but found that all he really could do in the presence of such a handsome man was nod his head.

The man laughed, looking a little bashful now, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You guys flatter me, really! It's just a hobby of mine, playing the violin, and I think it would be nice for others to hear it.”

Myungjun's eyes were still shining. “It was nice! I'm sure everyone liked it a lot! If I had any cash on me, I'd give you some-”

“I wouldn't accept. You should donate it, instead, to the children's music school I work with. It's way down _that_ street.” He pointed, but neither Dongmin nor Myungjun could readily take their eyes off of him, so with another giggle, the man continued, “They're not getting enough money, especially since they take in a lot more low-income students, so they can't afford equipment. But if you two don't mind donating...” He trailed off as he seemed to catch onto Myungjun's enthusiastic nodding, and then he grinned. “You're definitely eager to help.”

“Oh, Dongmin and I love music. I play the piano, you know! Kim Myungjun – you might have seen me at my first recital last week, if you were part of the audience. And Dongmin here-”

“I'm his friend.”

Dongmin finally spoke his first words, trying to clear up any issues before they actually arose, trying to keep his occupation a secret. There was no recognition in the man's eyes, no familiarity, and Dongmin realized that the violinist had no idea he was famous for his piano skills. For _once_ , someone interested in music was left in the dark, and Dongmin wanted to take advantage of it. He wanted to discuss technicalities of instruments, the beauty in compositions, the excitement in concerts, without being revered and worshiped. It would be such a new experience, one that Dongmin was very willing to soak in for as long as he could.

The man glanced at Dongmin briefly, smiling again. “I'm Moon Bin,” he greeted, and he turned back to Myungjun. “Your friend has a nice voice, but I feel like he won't answer me if I tell him that.”

“I would,” Dongmin retorted as Myungjun tittered. “I'm not a mute.”

“You rendered him speechless with your music,” Myungjun said, hiding his mouth behind his hands in order to stifle his laugh. “Which is actually difficult to do. Good job, Moon Bin!”

“I'm glad I could make something you enjoyed!” Bin exclaimed. “I mean, to the both of you! It's always nice to hear people appreciate what I compose.”

“You composed that?” Myungjun asked, and awe filled his tone once more.

Bin shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, from the _original_ song, yeah. I made it up for a violin solo.”

It was something that Dongmin knew Myungjun longed to do, and so he wasn't shocked by how excited Myungjun appeared to be. Still, before Bin could plant any ideas into Myungjun's head and ruin Dongmin's selfish, selfish desires, he cut in. “So you just play out here for fun? Is that it?”

“Yup!” Bin picked up his violin case and held it by his side. “For myself, and to promote the school I work at, _and_ just to see the expressions on everyone's faces when they hear something they love. Like your expression.” Bin pointed at Myungjun, whose ears were turning a mysterious shade of red, a surefire sign he was embarrassed about something or other. “It's cute. And yours-” Bin turned to Dongmin next and cocked his head to the side. “Yours, though, I can't quite put my finger on. I don't know if you're impressed or upset with me.” Bin laughed, and he didn't seem to expect an answer, for he continued, “I have to go now, though. I have some kids coming in soon for a class, and I don't want to be late.” He was already backing up, already gearing to rush down the street, but he waved first. “Be sure to donate money, Kim Myungjun!” he called as he got further away. “And, Dongmin, smile for me next time!”

Dongmin just stared stupidly as the man hurried around the corner, taking with him his violin and his talent and all of the joy that had started to settle in Dongmin's chest.

Myungjun summed it all up for him, in one breathless exclamation: “Wow, Dongmin. He's...perfect.”

He was, and Dongmin wondered if he could find Bin again, and if, whenever he did, Bin could replicate those emotions inside of him once more.

He was fairly certain Bin _could_. It was just a matter of _when_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my defense, im ill and exhausted BUT i wanted to get this out to you lovely people. im going to try and challenge myself from now on to publish a chapter of one of my three fics every monday - you guys get one today bc i was unable to release one yesterday. (we'll see how long this challenge lasts until i dont do it lmao)
> 
> come bug me on my tumblr [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so bin gets closer to dongmin, and myungjun gets closer to ?????

_the notes i handle no better than many pianists._

_but the pauses between the notes[-](https://youtu.be/Ey4n8vqlX_o) -_

_ah, that is where the art resides._

 

 

Preparing for Myungjun's next recital was a tedious task. Myungjun had suddenly, somehow, become even _more_ flighty and prone to showing up late. Even when he was focused and concentrating on the task at hand, he seemed to enjoy it even less than he had before.

At one point, he finally groaned and allowed his body to slump over, head banging into the keys and creating a loud, horrendous note across Dongmin's living room.

“Why am I torturing myself like this, Dongmin?” Myungjun asked sullenly, closing his eyes as he slid off the piano keys.

Dongmin frowned; he didn't quite like the fact that Myungjun might have messed up his grand piano. It cost him a fortune, and the upkeep was expensive, too. So he wiped down the spot Myungjun had been and said, “Because you want to please your mother.”

“Do I, though? _Should_ I, though?”

“You like the piano.”

Myungjun frowned, jutting out his lower lip, then sat up properly and gazed over at Dongmin. “I don't like being judged for it, and I don't like dedicating my life to it. I enjoy it as a _hobby_ , I think. Recitals and performances are too much.”

Dongmin nodded his head. He didn't fully understand how Myungjun could think his immense talent in music could go to waste, but arguing with Myungjun accomplished nothing; he had learned that the hard way. Instead, he sat down on the bench next to his friend and cleared his throat. “What else would you do, though, if not the piano?”

“I told you before, I hadn't really thought of it.”

There wasn't much else to say, really. They had discussed Myungjun's options many times before; Myungjun never seemed to quite know what it was _he_ wanted to do with the rest of his life. The only thing he was good at was the piano. The only thing he partially _enjoyed_ was the piano. He had no drive, no motivation for much else, except to find acceptance within a family of sorts.

The piano gave him that acceptance. Dongmin was just the push along for it.

“For now,” Dongmin said, tapping a finger across the sheet music on the music rack, “why don't we just practice this for your recital coming up. I don't think you've fully mastered the entire thing.”

“I've played it at least ten times,” Myungjun argued, but he sat in position and straightened out his music, looking over the notes once before glancing down at the keys. “I could spice this song up a little, you know-”

“And the judges will disqualify you for it.” Dongmin stood from his spot and patted Myungjun's back. “Spice it up in your free time, not while we're practicing.”

And so they continued with their work. Myungjun didn't bring up his desire to quit again; he seemed to understand that Dongmin _knew_ already, and so he focused on completing the long composition. They practiced until late at night, when the stars were already hanging high up in the sky and the hustle and bustle of city traffic had died down. Myungjun's eyelids were drooping, and even Dongmin was hiding yawns behind his hand.

As they packed up the music, Myungjun nudged his shoulder into Dongmin. “Got space for a friend?” he questioned. Dongmin knew he was referring to spending the night, possibly holing up in the guest bedroom Dongmin had set aside (that no one used, save for Myungjun himself). And, honestly, Dongmin couldn't blame him. It was far too late for city buses, and Myungjun wouldn't want to walk all that way home.

Dongmin smiled easily, nodding his head. “You don't even have to ask at this point,” he teased. “You know I'd always let you stay over.”

Myungjun returned the smile, soft and pure, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Thanks,” he murmured. “Even though you torture me with this dumb music, you're a pretty good friend to have.”

It had _meant_ to just be a student-teacher relationship. But, as time had passed, Dongmin really had grown to like Myungjun, even if it meant putting up with his crazy ideas and his lack of true passion. And, Dongmin decided, if Myungjun chose later to quit playing the piano, to give it up completely, Dongmin still longed to keep him by his side.

“I like to torture you,” Dongmin responded, “because that's something friends do.”

Myungjun laughed loudly. Dongmin thought it was more interesting to hear than the piano was.

 

**♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪**

 

Myungjun's second recital was in an even larger venue than the first one was. Dongmin had fond memories of playing in this particular concert hall as a young child, soaking up the admiration and awe from all of the guests and other pianists. He had played Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ , a piece that started soft and ended strong. It was perfect to showcase talent, to express emotion, and so Dongmin, in a flight of nostalgia, had chosen for Myungjun to play that same piece. Their practices had stretched on for long hours, until Myungjun could probably play the composition in his sleep. He was prepared, excited, even, to show off what he had learned.

Dongmin stood in the lobby, speaking to a few familiar faces from time to time, a large bouquet of sunflowers in his hand and his hair slicked back. He _knew_ Myungjun could wow everyone in the audience, and he knew this would open up an entire slew of opportunities for Myungjun's talents later in life. Perhaps, even, he'd find passion within this realm and continue onward with his training until he could become just as famous as Dongmin himself was.

He scanned the lobby, eyes trailing from the brilliantly bright chandelier, gazing across at all of the other attendees. Many of them might have been family members; the majority seemed to be wealthier patrons of the art, people who would never pass up the chance to dress in their finest clothes and tell their friends they enjoyed a night out at a concert of the likes.

There was one man, though, who seemed a little out of place. Rather than a tuxedo, or even a fine suit, he wore black jeans and a plain, white t-shirt with a black jacket over top of that. It was an odd ensemble for such an event; more casual than it was formal, and Dongmin felt himself being a little _too_ judgmental as he stared at the man.

He was about to turn and look away, deciding he didn't care enough to make a spectacle of himself by staring for too long, but before he could, another man came up, talking to the under-dressed man with excitement. And Dongmin _definitely_ recognized him.

The familiar man glanced up, eyes darting around the room, and then he, too, caught sight of Dongmin. He looked confused for a split second before smiling and waving, then hurrying over, his friend close behind him.

Dongmin couldn't remember a name, and he struggled for a few seconds before simply giving a small, “hello,” and bowing his head.

The man grinned, also bowing, and greeted, “Hey! You know Myungjun, don't you? You're the man I saw with him.”

“Oh. Yes. Um, Lee Dongmin. And, uh, you are?”

“Moon Bin!”

Right. Moon Bin. The man who played the violin so beautifully while forgoing all the rules. The man who worked at the failing children art's school. The man who had a charming, lopsided smile that made him look similar to a puppy of some sorts.

That Moon Bin.

Dongmin couldn't help but smile back, though he said nothing. He stupidly stared until the under-dressed man cleared his throat and stepped forward. “And I'm Park Jinwoo,” the man said, “Binnie's best friend in the entire world.”

“Well,” Bin murmured, “I wouldn't go _that_ far.”

Park Jinwoo scoffed. “Come off it. Who gave you a place to stay when you couldn't afford rent? And who had to deal with your mopey ass after your first boyfriend broke up with you. And who-”

“Park Jinwoo _is_ my best friend,” Bin quickly interjected, and Jinwoo gave a satisfied smirk. “Anyway, it's good to see you, Dongmin! Are those flowers for Myungjun?” He cooed lightly, and without waiting for Dongmin to reply, he continued, “You two are so cute together! Jinwoo, wait until you meet Myungjun, you'll see he and Dongmin just fit so perfectly!”

Dongmin blinked, processing Bin's words, then gave a slight laugh. “Oh! Oh, no, um, no, we're _not_ a couple. Definitely not.”

“Really?” Bin looked surprised, and a blush spread up to his cheeks. “I could have _sworn_ you two were. He was a little clingy to you when we first met. And he does like to talk about you. He says you're one of the most talented people he's ever known!”

“We're honestly just friends,” Dongmin replied, shaking his head. “I've known him since I was a child. I would _never_ date him. Honestly, he 's more like an irritating older brother whom I still love dearly.”

“Well, that's just as cute!” Bin responded. “Ah, damn, I should've got him flowers, too, though.”

“I told you,” Jinwoo said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was so excited for you to come, I _told_ you that flowers were necessary.”

Bin shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, well, I thought it might be weird if I brought him flowers when I thought he was dating someone. Now that he's single and it's a friendly thing, I guess it'd be fine. Hindsight would have been nice.” He sighed, but he didn't seem to deterred. “Anyway, Dongmin, this starts in a minute or two, right?”

Dongmin nodded his head, then glanced over at the doors. People were filing in, and Dongmin cursed lightly in his head. Usually, he was the first one to head inside the theater hall, but he had been so caught up with Bin and Jinwoo that he had forgotten. “We should probably go get our seats,” he blurted out. “I like being in the front, or near the front, so I can watch him properly.”

He allowed Bin and Jinwoo to follow him, pushing past a few people in order to gather their seats. They sat in the front, though further to the right than Dongmin would have truly enjoyed, but he wasn't much upset. As long as he could watch Myungjun, ensure the boy's technique and skill was on show, then it would all be just fine.

Bin and Jinwoo talked quietly together as Dongmin checked his phone. He had received one text from Myungjun ( _wish me luck! (_ _ﾟヮﾟ_ )), and one from Myungjun's mother.

_Hello, Dongmin_ , the second text read, _I was hopeful that someone would offer my son the opportunity to play in even larger spaces. I have a feeling he will reject the offer, though, if it is given to him, so please ensure that you're nearby to take it for him. He will play in even larger spaces. Make sure of it, please._

He didn't ever like communicating with Myungjun's mother. She never seemed to care about what her son truly wanted; and, because Dongmin was paid by her, he had to reject Myungjun's dreams and desires, as well, in order to remain in good standing with both the musical community, who expected him to hold a student for a while, and with Myungjun's mother, who sent large paychecks every two weeks for Dongmin's service.

He sighed, a little loudly, and attracted the attention of Bin, who sat right in between Dongmin and Jinwoo. Bin glanced over and whispered, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dongmin answered, pocketing his phone. “Just a bit of an issue with someone.”

Bin hummed, nodding his head, and patted Dongmin's shoulder. “Don't worry. I'm sure you'll figure it out,” he said. “Myungjun always told me that you were smart and could handle things on your own.”

Dongmin was ready to agree that it _would_ be fine, and that he _would_ figure it out, but all of Bin's words sounded muddled in his mind, and it caused confusion to blossom. Why was Bin talking as if he had known Myungjun for some time? They met once, weeks ago, and hardly had a chance to fully introduce themselves. Now, suddenly, Bin kept referring to Myungjun as if they were friends. “I have a question,” he whispered, but just as he leaned in to ask Bin what was going on, the director of the venue came on stage and asked for attention. Bin smiled patiently and put a finger to his lips, then mouthed, “after the show.”

So Dongmin was left to stew and mull over Bin's mysterious words and sudden relationship with Myungjun. He didn't pay attention to any of the other pianists who came on stage, ignoring their words and the sounds of the music. He clapped mindlessly after each one, following along with Bin and Jinwoo's gestures.

However, once Myungjun came up, Dongmin decided to forget everything Bin had said, if only for a little while. He needed to focus on his best friend, after all, regardless of what was going on. Myungjun had trained and had practiced for so long and Dongmin was excited to finally hear the music in such a large venue, filled with equally enthusiastic audience members.

Myungjun bowed to the guests and took his seat at the piano. His hair was fixed perfectly and his tuxedo was brand new. Dongmin had even put a bit of makeup on him, after Myungjun begged him to do _something_ about the bags under his eyes and the small patch of acne that had formed on his cheeks seemingly overnight.

Myungjun looked handsome, breathtaking, under the shine of the theater lights, and Dongmin smiled fondly as his student, his best friend, began to play his composition.

It was slow at first, careful and low. Myungjun, despite his reluctance to even play at large venues, put as much passion as possible into delivering the piece in such a beautiful manner that Dongmin felt swept away. His long fingers glided over the keys with skillful ease, and his rich, brown eyes stayed entirely focused on his playing, on everything he was doing.

The first break came and went, and Myungjun continued. The piece grew lighter, more cheerful, and Dongmin knew that Myungjun _loved_ that portion of it. He smiled as he played, too, dimples showing in his cheeks; Dongmin couldn't help but smile along with him.

Something changed with the next break, though. It was the more difficult part of the composition. Myungjun's fingers had slipped many times during practice, as he grew overzealous in his proficiency, but he had finally mastered it, and had practiced those pages over and over again until he had perfected it.

He glanced over during the short break in the music, eyes quickly scanning the crowd. He smiled again when he saw Dongmin, but lost his smile as his gaze traveled across Bin and Jinwoo. Just as fast as he had even looked over at the three of them, he was back at his music, starting a bit too early, playing a bit too harshly. It didn't carry the same beautiful tune it had before. It was rushed now, and Myungjun's passion was lost.

Still, Dongmin thought as he held his breath, the music _could_ still be saved and Myungjun could still come out of this just fine. At first, at least, the notes were all the same, and Myungjun _knew_ what he was doing.

But then he hit the wrong key.

The music began to fall apart then. Myungjun tried to continue onward, tried to salvage whatever he could of the composition, but he hit one more wrong key.

The song stopped.

There was slight coughing heard in the crowd, a small murmur of confusion rising up as people wondered exactly what was wrong with Myungjun. He _had_ been doing just fine before, and now, suddenly, he sat in silence at his piano, face filled with panic and worry.

He didn't try to fix it. He stood from his seat, the bench scraping loudly across the stage flooring, and without giving the audience so much as a second glance, he bowed, then rushed to the side, disappearing through the same exit he had come out of.

Dongmin felt guilt and pity course through his veins. After all, it had been _his_ doing that caused Myungjun to go up on stage and perform, when Myungjun had stated, time and time again, that he didn't want to. He had forced Myungjun to stay at his place late into the night in order to practice the difficult movement the composition required. He had tried so desperately to mold Myungjun into something he wasn't.

And now Myungjun had humiliated himself up on stage. Dongmin had seen the fearful look in his gaze as he had hurried away. People were talking, too, about his lack of professionalism; the man sitting on Dongmin's other side scoffed to his wife and muttered, “That kid doesn't deserve to be up here if that's how he plays.”

Dongmin ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't mind at all if it messed up his hairdo, or if he looked like a wreck. Myungjun was worse off, probably, backstage by himself with all of the judgmental old men he complained of constantly.

Dongmin glanced over at Bin, who was whispering something to Jinwoo.

“Bin?”

Bin startled, then both he and Jinwoo looked at Dongmin. “Yeah?”

“He's _good_ , I promise, I don't know what happened. He got flustered. I don't know-”

“Oh, I know he's good!” Bin assured him; Jinwoo nodded his head enthusiastically. “He's played once or twice for me, when he's come to volunteer, so I've heard him.”

“Volunteer?” Dongmin cocked his head. “For-”

He didn't have time to question it, though. He didn't _care_ at the moment what Myungjun was doing hanging around Bin. His friend was by himself, and Dongmin needed to be with him. He stood from his seat, making sure to stay low so as to not impede anyone else's view of the empty stage, and whispered, “I'm going to go check on him.”

Bin nodded his head, then also stood; Jinwoo followed in his stead. “We'll come.”

“Oh, no, you don't have to, honestly. I don't want to ruin your viewing-”

“We only came for Myungjun,” Bin replied with a small giggle. “So I'm not going to _want_ to sit here and see the rest of them. It gets a bit boring after a while, anyway.”

Bin was so sweet. Bin was so cute. Dongmin smiled along with Bin's laugh, but then remembered he was only here for _Myungjun_. His possible infatuation with Bin would have to wait.

“Alright,” he murmured, and gestured for Jinwoo and Bin to sneak with him out of the concert hall, just as the director was onstage apologizing for the inconvenience and introducing the next pianist.

He felt worry grasp at his heart again the closer he walked toward the backstage area. Myungjun had worked so hard for this composition, and something had made it all fall apart. He bit his lip, gnawing at it lightly between his teeth, until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Bin whispered, grasping onto him lightly. Dongmin glanced over at the man, who expressed nothing but warmth and composure in his gaze. “Myungjun will be fine. Just be sweet to him. Give him those flowers! He's tough, and he'll be alright.”

Once more, Dongmin was filled with curiosity. How did Myungjun and Bin become friends? Why were they suddenly so close? And why was Bin so close to Dongmin at the moment, so handsome, and so _perfect?_

He dispelled those thoughts, once more, from his mind. Instead of focusing on anything else around him, he nodded his head. “Thanks,” he murmured to Bin, and he continued forward to the backstage rooms, intent on ensuring, first and foremost, his best friend was alright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip myungjun and your non-existent dreams of being an awesome pianist.
> 
> but what of his sudden friendship with bin? and why did he suddenly quit playing? and what's dongmin gonna do when bin is so cute? 
> 
> hmu for all these answers, and more, [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!
> 
> (if u hate tumblr, i have a twitter - [@nightmjare](http://twitter.com/nightmjare). i dont do a damn thing on it.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i torture myself with binu, i cant write it

_it takes generosity to discover the whole through others._

_if you realize you are only a violin you can open yourself up to the world_

_by playing your role in the concert[.](https://youtu.be/iunX6wL8lBM)_   
  


 

It wasn't too difficult to find Myungjun. He was always outside of the crowd that gathered in the other backstage areas, forgoing conversation in order to sit by his lonesome, either going over his performance in his mind or else packing up and ready to go. Now, though, as Dongmin found him, he was instead staring at the ground forlornly, lips pressed together in a thin line and hands gripping tightly at his knees, fingers digging into skin. A few other pianists stood around, waiting for their chance to go on stage, whispering among themselves about Myungjun's failure of a performance.

Dongmin paid them no attention. He pushed passed them, intent only on his friend, who glanced up with disinterest.

“Hey,” Dongmin greeted, sitting down in the empty chair beside Myungjun.

Myungjun scoffed and slumped over all the more. “I don't feel like getting into it with you right now,” he mumbled. When Dongmin didn't respond, he continued, “My mom is going to hear about it somehow. One way or another. You know she will. She's made friends with a few of the other pianists around here. I'm already going to hear _her_ have to scold me. I don't want you to scold me, too. One disappointed person in my life is enough.”

He would have kept rambling, probably, if Dongmin didn't quietly shush him, bringing an arm up to rub at his shoulder. “I'm not going to scold you,” he said. “There's no reason to do _that_.” He supposed Myungjun already felt humiliated enough with ruining his big performance. He would never choose to add onto that. Besides, he felt more worried about _why_ it happened. Myungjun had seemed confident enough earlier in the song. Dongmin tried to think back to what might have caused his sudden mishap.

Before he could ask, however, Myungjun suddenly lowered his voice to a whisper. “The others are talking about me.” He glanced up, at the small group of pianists nearby, who all looked away when they noticed Myungjun's gaze. “They were doing it loudly, before you came in. Like they wanted me to hear.”

Dongmin blinked. He couldn't remember pianists being rude to someone who made a few mistakes. They were always pleasant enough to him, up until he refused to take on any more students. “What were they talking about?” he asked.

Myungjun pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “Just...stuff.” He played with his fingers, still situated on his knees. “You know, I never wanted to be a pianist.”

“I know.”

“I did it to make my mom happy. I did it to make her love me.”

Dongmin frowned. “She does love you, Myungjun. She's just-”

“No, Dongmin, you didn't have to live with her.” Myungjun's voice was taut, strained, exhausted. The boy had bags under his eyes and he had lost weight. Dongmin felt a twinge of guilt; perhaps he pushed him too far for this. “Growing up, it was always, _why can't you be more like your brother? Why are you useless? Why...why did I have to give birth to you?_ ”

Myungjun talked about his unhealthy relationship with his mother often, but he never delved too deeply into the subject. He always made jokes, or else changed topics of the conversation. He tried to brush off whatever it was she had said. But, as Dongmin stared at him, he realized he never truly forgot any of her words. He remembered them, rehashed them in his mind, allowed them to consume him alive.

“I don't know what I want anymore, Dongmin.” Myungjun exhaled loudly, his eyes dropping back to the floor. “I want to make her happy. But I can't. I screw up whatever I try to do.”

“Well,” Dongmin started, “maybe we can figure out what went wrong, and we can try to ensure it doesn't happen again.”

He was met with another sigh. “I don't know.”

“You had been doing fine up until that part. What was different?”

Myungjun was quiet for a second, then he glanced up at Dongmin. “Who was that with Binnie?”

“What?” He still couldn't wrap his mind around how Bin and Myungjun were suddenly friends; he had meant to ask, but with everything that was going on, he had forgotten. “Binnie?”

“Bin,” Myungjun corrected. “The guy beside him. Who was that?”

Dongmin shrugged his shoulders. “I think his name is Jinwoo. I'm not sure. I just met him, and Bin didn't really explain much. Why?”

But Myungjun countered Dongmin's question with one of his own. “Had he been there the whole time? Did he tag along with Bin?”

“I...yes.” Dongmin blinked. Myungjun was interested in discussing Jinwoo. Myungjun had messed up after looking over at the audience, over at Dongmin himself, and Bin, and then he had seen Jinwoo-

“Oh,” Dongmin murmured, his eyebrows rising. “Myungjun, did you become flustered because of Jinwoo?”

He wasn't given a direct answer. Myungjun just clicked his tongue up against the roof of his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. “I just messed up.”

“If you messed up because you think someone is _cute_ , that's a big deal,” Dongmin said. He found it adorable, really, that perhaps Myungjun had become like a schoolchild seeing someone pretty. However, he didn't like the fact that Myungjun couldn't keep his composure in the middle of a big performance. “Your infatuation with someone should _not_ come over the piano. If you want to make it big, and if you want to please your mom-”

“I _said_ I don't want someone else to scold me, too,” Myungjun snapped. He glared, too, his normally-soft brown eyes darkened as they stared at Dongmin. “I screwed up. I'm _sorry_. I humiliated myself more than I did you, though, and I don't want to discuss it.”

Dongmin felt bad for pushing anything, for trying to scold Myungjun, and so he nodded his head in agreement. It happened, and there was nothing to be done to change it. He couldn't go back in time; he might as well move forward, then.

“Why don't we leave, then?” he asked, standing from his seat. “Better to go elsewhere than to stay here, where certain people won't stop staring.” He was loud, harsh in tone, ensuring the young pianists nearby flushed in embarrassment and turned away from where they had been openly staring at Myungjun's pitiful form.

Myungjun seemed shocked that Dongmin wasn't going to continue scolding him, but it wasn't as if he would try to argue. He stood, too, following Dongmin toward the hallway again. When he spotted Bin and Jinwoo waiting near the lobby, he froze for a second, but one small tug from Dongmin made him continue. However, they were stopped just short of the other two men, someone stepping in sudden enough to make Dongmin and Myungjun bump into each other as they halted.

Dongmin recognized the man blocking their path; Cho Jisu, a famous pianist who had traveled the world at least thrice, playing beautiful compositions and awing audiences everywhere. He had always been kind and polite to Dongmin, and so Dongmin offered him a smile.

It wasn't at all returned.

“You had become a little infamous, Dongmin, for not taking in but one student,” Jisu started, regarding Myungjun with interest. There was no greeting, no warmth, nothing but mockery in his gaze. “And I was curious to see what type of student it would be. Someone intelligent, I had thought. Someone talented, too. Someone worthy to work under the name _Lee Dongmin_.” He smirked, eyes traveling up and down Myungjun's smaller body. “I guess I was wrong.”

Dongmin grasped tightly onto Myungjun's hand. He could see Bin and Jinwoo watching the proceedings curiously, and so he tried to sidestep around Jisu. “We're busy,” was his response, but Jisu didn't stop talking.

“I had many colleagues who were also curious. I invited them to come today. I told them that Dongmin would _never_ just pick some idiot up off the streets to play piano for him. Do you realize, Dongmin, how stupid the _both_ of us look now? Myself, telling lies, and you, with the most untalented boy I've ever-”

“Hey!” Jisu was cut off by the loud voice of Jinwoo, who was already hurrying forward with Bin by his side. Both of them looked frustrated; somehow, Jinwoo looked more angry than Bin. He looked offended himself, and he pushed in between Jisu and Dongmin. Despite being shorter, he was definitely more threatening, and he continued, “You're pathetic – Myungjun made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes playing an instrument! Yours might be in private; his just happened to be on the stage. But it's no reason to complain to them about it, especially not when Dongmin already told you that they're busy.”

Jisu wrinkled his nose. He focused his gaze first on Jinwoo's dark, red hair, then down at his casual outfit. “They just let anyone into these events these days, don't they?” he murmured.

Bin seemed quite ready to retort, and even Dongmin stepped forward, but Jinwoo was quicker to the punch. He grabbed Myungjun's arm from Dongmin and tugged him aside. Myungjun, who had been quiet, accepting all of the complaints, looked shocked to suddenly be defended in such a manner. His face flushed, too, the moment Jinwoo had touched him, and he stumbled along with Jinwoo's movements. “They do just let in anyone,” Jinwoo agreed. “They let in _you_ , after all.”

He didn't wait around to listen to Jisu's stammered responses. He kept walking toward the doors, still holding on tightly to Myungjun's hand. Bin and Dongmin rushed after him; Bin looked pleased at Jinwoo's defiance, and told him as much once they were outside.

“You were so _mean!_ That's awesome, Jinwoo! God, he deserved it, didn't he, Myungjun?” He turned his beaming face on the young pianist, who bit at his bottom lip in worry.

“Maybe not,” Myungjun muttered. “B-Because maybe he was right. Maybe I am-”

“I refuse to believe that,” Jinwoo said. He smiled softly, then reached his free hand up to fix Myungjun's hair. “I'm Jinwoo, by the way. I don't think we've met.”

Myungjun's face was red, and Dongmin could tell he was getting flustered once more. “A-Are you Bin's friend?”

Jinwoo nodded. “I was sitting with Bin and Dongmin, and you did well enough for the first bit. I play the drums, you know, and one time I was playing for this band that needed an extra drummer. I practiced and practiced and practiced. I was perfect the day of our performance. And then, suddenly, I forgot all of their songs. I screwed them up, and I never wanted to show my face anywhere _near_ that bar, or people in general.”

Myungjun looked intrigued by the story. It was similar enough to his own mishap, after all, and he seemed to be in need of comforting. “What happened next?” he asked.

“I kept playing,” Jinwoo responded. “And I decided that sometimes this sort of thing happens. After all, we're all human. We all mess up sometimes.” He glanced back at Dongmin and Bin and then smiled again. “Would we all like to go grab some food? I'll pay. I'm a little hungry, and I'm not in the mood to stick around this concert hall, anyway.”

Bin looked at Dongmin; with all eyes on him, hungry and awaiting his response, Dongmin decided he couldn't very well reject the offer, so he nodded. Jinwoo cheered and pointed down to where his car had been parked. “I'm going to take Myungjun, if that's all right. I still want to talk to him a little bit more. Bin, you can ride with Dongmin, okay? Direct him to that good ramen place right near our school.”

Dongmin didn't want to protest. Myungjun's face brightened with Jinwoo's instructions, and he followed his new friend along with absolutely no hassle. Besides, Jinwoo seemed to know what he was talking about, and he seemed to be making Myungjun feel infinitely better about it all.

That just left, though, Bin by his side, watching the two walk off.

“They like each other,” Bin suddenly pointed out, once Myungjun and Jinwoo were out of earshot.

Dongmin snorted. “Obviously,” he said.

“Which is funny,” Bin continued, “because Myungjun liked _me_ just a few days ago.”

“Really?” Dongmin asked, glancing over at Bin with wide eyes. “He liked you?” When Bin nodded, Dongmin continued, “How does he even _know_ you, though?”

Bin seemed surprised that Dongmin wasn't aware of their relationship. He stammered out a quick response of, “H-He volunteers – wait, do you really not know? I thought you two were super close. I thought he would tell you everything! He always talks about you as if you're some sort of brotherly figure in his life.”

The thought of Myungjun thinking so highly of him warmed Dongmin's heart, but he decided now was not the time to get mushy over such things. He shrugged his shoulders. “We're close, but I haven't heard a word about you until today, really.”

“Oh.” Bin still looked confused, but he didn't keep rehashing the same questions. Instead, he answered Dongmin's original question. “He came by the music school I work at a few days after we met. He asked if there were any job openings, and I told him there weren't. We can hardly afford to pay our current piano teacher, anyway, let alone take on someone else. And I thought that'd be it, but he asked if there were any volunteer opportunities, instead, and so he's been helping us out ever since then.” Bin smiled. “He's very sweet. He helps out in the piano room. He's taken over a few classes when the other teacher calls out sick or has a day off. I guess he just hadn't met Jinwoo yet, since Jinwoo comes at different times, but they look cute together. Maybe it's the height,” he added with a slight giggle.

All of what Bin said made Dongmin pause. Myungjun had asked for a new job? He hadn't needed work; his family was wealthy enough that he could live off their money, and the money he made from various musical ventures at different events. Besides, both Dongmin and Myungjun's mother barred him from having a job. It would hinder his lessons and cause his attentions to become divided. Myungjun had agreed, too, if not a bit reluctantly, but why _now_ was he trying to get a job at Bin's school?

“Could...could it be because he liked you?” Dongmin asked, cocking his head slightly as he stared at Bin. “Maybe he just wanted to be near you.”

“He really enjoys the work, though! He likes teaching classes. He's great with kids, Dongmin, you should come watch him one day. All of the students love him.” Bin smiled fondly and gestured around at the small parking deck. “We're going to be late, though, if we stand around here and talk. Which of these is your car?”

Dongmin showed him, and he drove in relative silence. He had hoped that Myungjun would focus solely on his piano lessons, but now that he knew of Myungjun's secret “job” elsewhere, he was reminded of how difficult Myungjun had become. He always showed up late, or else canceled lessons, or, if he _did_ manage to come on time, he hardly paid any attention. Dongmin had been pushing him harder as a sort of punishment, making him stay late and overnight in order to prepare himself for the performance he had.

Some good it did, though, if Myungjun was already giving it all up in order to help out at the school, and in order to ogle at Jinwoo a little bit more. Dongmin's hands tightened at the wheel and he pursed his lips.

Bin seemed to notice. “Are you alright?” he asked cautiously.

“Fine,” Dongmin replied, but he couldn't stay silent for too long. “Myungjun never told me because he had already promised he wouldn't take up any jobs like this. It divides his attention and focus, and as you saw from the performance earlier, he's apt to make _many_ mistakes now that his mind is on something else.”

He was met with silence, and so he nervously glanced over at Bin, who stared back at him, his expression unreadable. “Am I right?” Dongmin questioned.

“Eh.” Bin shrugged his shoulders. “Myungjun is a grown man. I think he can make his own decisions. He's told me before he doesn't really enjoy his lessons, and he hates being up on stage.”

Dongmin shook his head. “He'll learn,” he said. “He'll become passionate. Once he makes it big, he'll _want_ to be on stage. He just keeps pushing those dreams aside, though.”

“I don't think that's it at all.” Bin was still staring curiously at Dongmin. “Why do you care so much, though? Why do you push him so hard into something he doesn't want to do?” He didn't give Dongmin a chance to answer before continuing, “I kept hearing your name. People kept whispering it before Myungjun performed. And in the lobby, a few people were mentioning it again. And that jackass who insulted Jinwoo – Dongmin, you're famous in the piano world, aren't you?”

Dongmin didn't really want to give that a response. He had assumed he could hide it, get away with being famous around Bin and Jinwoo, but he supposed he couldn't really keep that a secret if his entire world revolved around pianos. People who didn't know were bound to discover the truth after some period of time. It was inevitable.

His non-answer gave Bin the confirmation he needed. “So you're projecting your fame, all your wants and desires, onto Myungjun, aren't you? You want him to be famous because _you_ are famous. In turn, wouldn't that increase your own fame, then? Raising some other piano prodigy would put you in more spotlight.”

Dongmin bit down on his bottom lip and still made no effort to respond. He wanted to deny that as being true, and yet he found that he couldn't. When he glanced at Bin one last time, Bin was smiling again.

“But I really don't care right now. I'm just hungry. Too much thinking, it seems, and I shouldn't do all of that thinking on an empty stomach. You should drive faster, Dongmin, there's a noodle bowl with my name on it awaiting us!”

Bin's intuitive statements and knowing gaze made Dongmin wary, but it also made him warm inside, slightly flustered. Maybe it was an attack on his character, but Bin didn't seem to judge him harshly for it. Bin seemed to understand his mindset; Bin seemed friendly regardless of it all.

And so Dongmin sped up, much to Bin's enjoyment, and he couldn't help but smile as well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I APOLOGIZE FOR THE ICKY BINU IN THIS WOW this should've been a platonic 2J story but i hate myself apparently.
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter/nightmjare.com)) to teach me binu.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this should probs be "platonic 2J with a touch of binu." 
> 
> in any case, i hope im able to draw u all into the wonders that is 2J bc damn i like 2J

_music was my refuge._

_i could crawl into the space between the notes_

_and curl my back to loneliness[.](https://youtu.be/U3u4pQ4WKOk)_  


 

Myungjun didn't answer any of his texts or return any of Dongmin's calls.

It was commonplace for Myungjun to now show late to his practices, or to just not show at all, but he usually had some sort of excuse prepared; he had errands to run, he wasn't feeling well, he had to see a doctor for something or other. But he always picked up his phone, at least, and informed Dongmin of what was going on.

Now, suddenly, the second day in a row, he was absolutely silent, and Dongmin found himself growing worried for the safety and well-being of his best friend.

He wondered if the failed recital had ruined Myungjun's spirit. He wouldn't be shocked; after all, Myungjun had felt humiliated, and even Jinwoo's support didn't seem to be enough to lift him out of his self-pity. His last few practices had been of sub-par quality, because clearly Myungjun wasn't in the mood to play the piano any longer.

His mother had called, too, during one of the practices. She hadn't even called Myungjun's phone. She had called Dongmin, and Dongmin stared at the number in confusion as Myungjun completed a song he had been working on.

He looked over curiously at Dongmin. “Who is it?” he asked.

Dongmin grimaced and didn't respond. He simply held up a finger, quieting Myungjun, and scurried off into the next room over, placing the phone to his ear quickly to answer it.

“Hello?”

Instantly, Myungjun's mother dived right into her reason for calling without returning Dongmin's greeting. “I heard what happened. My son messed up on stage, didn't he? And he didn't even _try_ to fix his mistakes, he just ran off and allowed confusion to take over the entire concert hall. Isn't that correct?”

Dongmin wasn't quite sure how to reply, and so he gave a small hum, gripping tightly onto the phone. Myungjun's mother seemed to take that as a sign or gesture to continue her tirade. “I have faith in you, Dongmin, to train him well, but I have no faith in him to hold onto any of your training. He's...” She sighed loudly. “He's not very bright. Nothing like his older brother. He's lazy and he doesn't commit. I had been hoping if he trained with a brilliant pianist such as yourself, then he might get somewhere, but...” She trailed off and sighed again. “Dongmin, increase the amount of lessons he must take, alright? I'll cover the costs, but I want him to actually succeed at something in his life. Despite how...untalented he is, he is still my son, and I need him to make a name for himself, just as you have.”

Dongmin felt his stomach churn from the woman's words. “He's already working hard,” he weakly defended his friend. “I don't want to push him, not after-”

“He needs to be pushed. That's just how life is. Work with him seven hours a day instead of three.”

“Seven hours-?”

“And try to make it Monday through Saturday, instead of just three times a week.”

Dongmin's eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head, although he knew that Myungjun's mother couldn't see his motions. “Ma'am, I'm sorry, but that's...not even the most talented pianists practice that often. He needs breaks-”

She scoffed, however, and said, “He doesn't do anything else, so I think he can handle this. I know he's at your practice right now, so just lengthen the time he remains.” She fell silent for a second, then murmured, “Once he's famous, famous and wealthy and well-known, he'll thank me.”

She hung up shortly afterwards, and Dongmin was left alone in his room, gnawing at his bottom lip and trying to think of how to best tell Myungjun of his new practice hours.

It would be difficult when Myungjun was already giving up on piano, when he was lethargic and upset and nervous to ever try again. But, still, Dongmin relied on Myungjun's family funds sometimes; it was an impressive amount of money that he was given at the end of every month, and he wasn't willing to relinquish it.

Not only that, but he _knew_ Myungjun was talented, and he knew the boy had passion inside of him somewhere, if only he would grasp a hold of it. He could mold Myungjun into something great and magnificent if Myungjun allowed it to happen. Perhaps, then, it wouldn't be all that bad.

Or so he thought for a couple of minutes before returning back into the practice room and informing Myungjun of what his mother had said, omitting the less-than-kind portions.

Myungjun looked distraught. “ _Seven_ hours?” he asked, and he moved his hands from the keys, ceasing his warmups. “Is she punishing me because I screwed up on stage?”

“It's...not a punishment,” Dongmin offered, sitting back down on his own seat, next to Myungjun's bench. “I think she's just concerned that I might not be teaching you enough in the short time we have together.”

“It's not _you_ she's concerned about,” Myungjun fussed, and he hit a random key with his hand, letting the short burst of sound travel through the room. “She adores you, Dongmin. She'd trade us in an instant, if she could. You're the son she _wants_ to have. You're like my brother, and I'm like the...the disappointing cousin of the family.”

Dongmin winced. “That's not true at all,” he lied, though he knew Myungjun's words were right. His mother could be quite the horrid person. She didn't seem to appreciate Myungjun much at all, despite how often Myungjun worked to make her pleased.

In response, Myungjun slammed another key out of frustration. He blinked rapidly, too, and finally stood from his seat, the bench scraping across the wooden floors. “I need a break,” he said.

“You haven't been here that long-”

“And, apparently, I'll be here for five more hours, so I deserve a damn break!” Myungjun exclaimed. His chin was quivering as he grabbed his supplies, stuffing them back into his back and closing the piano lid. “And while I'm gone, you should go change your family name to _Kim_. Switch my name out with yours. That seems to be the best option at this point.”

Dongmin wasn't given a chance to offer a retort. Myungjun disappeared quickly, quietly, and Dongmin couldn't very well blame him for being upset.

That was the last they had spoken to each other for two days, and Dongmin was concerned. Above all else, he knew Myungjun was a friend. He tried to remind himself of Bin's words, to remember that Myungjun was an adult and capable of making all of his own decisions. He didn't need someone always telling him what to do and where to be.

Maybe he just wanted freedom.

Still, Dongmin's conscience wouldn't allow him to just freely take money from Myungjun's mother without actually performing any sort of job. He was supposed to train Myungjun; that was what he was paid for. It was the equivalent of collecting a paycheck after not having showed for work. Dongmin liked to think he was honest and trustworthy, and people who were honest and trustworthy would never lie in such a manner.

So after calling and receiving no answer from Myungjun, he made the decision to travel himself to Myungjun's apartment, to figure out exactly what was going on.

But Myungjun wasn't home; or, if he was, he wasn't answering his door. Dongmin knocked and waited, knocked again and waited some more, and yet he was left milling about outside, trying to determine where it was, exactly, that Myungjun had gone off to.

On his third and final knock, the neighbor's door opened, and a young man peered out at Dongmin, wide eyes blinking over at him curiously. “Hi!” the boy exclaimed.

Dongmin nodded politely.

“Are you looking for Myungjun?” the boy asked again, and Dongmin still nodded. “He went out a few hours ago. I saw him going when I was coming home from the store. He had, um, his music books with him, a big stack of them.”

“Oh,” Dongmin said, a little surprised. If he was carrying music books with him, why didn't he show up at practice? “And you're not sure where he went?” he asked.

The boy shrugged. “He said something about school, but I thought he already graduated. Are you his music teacher? I've seen you come by before. I'm studying the piano, too, and-”

“I'd love to talk, really, but I have to find Myungjun,” Dongmin said, apologetically. He offered the boy a small wave, and, fortunately, the boy didn't seem to take Dongmin's hastiness to heart.

“Oh, okay! Maybe you can come back around one day and see if my technique is good? I want to be trained, too, by a professional. Myungjun's helped me a lot, and he's promised he'll be my teacher when he gets good enough, but you can help, too!” The boy bowed lightly. “I'm Sanha, and if you come by again, _please_ come to my apartment and listen, okay?”

He was sweet and charming, but Dongmin wasn't really in the mood to engage in small talk about pianos. He was pretty sure he knew where Myungjun had gone off to, and he was quite determined to deliver a scolding to his student.

After bidding Sanha a farewell, he hurried back down the street, driving around and trying to remember just where the school was.

Although he inserted it into his GPS, he found it in the end. It was a small building, a little dingy, and quite obviously not rolling in funding. It didn't seem like the sort of place a talented, award-winning musician would choose to visit, and yet Dongmin was slipping inside the squeaky doors and glancing down the worn hallways.

A young man was at the receptionist desk, regarding Dongmin with interest. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Dongmin glanced over at him and smiled kindly before stepping forward and clearing his throat. “I believe you can,” he responded, glancing down at the name on the desk: Park Minhyuk. “Um, Mr. Park, I was wondering if a Kim Myungjun had come by? He's a friend of mine, and he hasn't been answering his phone so I was worried something might have happened, but then I thought he might-”

“He's here,” Minhyuk interrupted Dongmin's mindless rambling and gestured down the hallway. “He's subbing right now. One of our teachers stopped showing up, so Bin asked Myungjun to come in. You can go see him, if you want. All the way down, a door on the left – you'll probably hear them before you see them.”

He was helpful, if not a bit rude, and Dongmin thanked him before heading on down the hallway as instructed. He peeked through a few of the rooms, most of them dark, but in one or two he could spot students here and there learning various instruments. They all seemed cute, and the teachers looked interested in what they were doing.

He stopped when he heard a familiar noise, a sound of beautiful piano notes from behind one of the closed rooms. _Clair de lune_ , a piece Myungjun had been practicing. He had fallen back on that particular composition, claiming it was easier and prettier and something he truly enjoyed, and while Dongmin hadn't been entirely pleased with Myungjun's reluctance to try anything more challenging, he had accepted it, nonetheless.

It _was_ pretty, and, somehow, it sounded prettier _here_ , in the run-down school building with weeds around the front and floor tiles coming undone and music muffled behind a closed door. It sounded passionate and exciting.

It sounded as if Myungjun composed it himself, loved it and cherished it as if it was his own, not like he was being forced by Dongmin to play the piece for seven hours straight.

And, when Dongmin peeked inside, he could see Myungjun, surrounded by several children as he showed them which keys he was hitting and how to properly position his body at the piano. Myungjun was smiling, _grinning_ , and as he finished the song, the children burst into applause and laughter, all of them begging for their own chance to play.

Myungjun, too, laughed, and he stood from his spot, inviting first a young girl to take a seat and try her hand.

As Dongmin watched, he expected something _greater_ from the girl. He expected the notes to sound lovely; after all, if Myungjun was helping to train them, they must be brilliantly skilled pianists.

But her notes were flat and her fingers hit the wrong keys and she slouched as she played. Myungjun seemed to be instructing her on her posture, but otherwise, he never once told her it was all bad. He encouraged her, clapped for her, and ruffled her tiny mop of hair when she gave up.

It wasn't at all like how Myungjun _should_ teach, and Dongmin felt a little frustrated at his friend's lackluster attitude toward skill and technique. He had half a mind to enter the room, to perhaps show the children just how a _good_ pianist should play an instrument, but before he could do anything, he heard someone speak behind him.

“He's great with the kids, isn't he?”

Dongmin spun around, eyes wide with shock. Bin stood right over his shoulder, smiling widely as he pointed over at the door. “Myungjun, I mean. Look at him! It's like he's in his element, you know.”

It seemed that way, maybe, but as Dongmin drew back from the door, stepping aside so Myungjun couldn't spot him, he shook his head. “I don't think he's doing that great,” he admitted.

Bin didn't look upset. He instead appeared to be interested, the smile never once leaving his face. “Why's that?” he asked, leaning up against the far wall and staring at Dongmin.

“Isn't it obvious?” Dongmin questioned. “He's not teaching them properly. They're hitting the wrong keys, they're not sitting as they ought to, they're changing up the notes and treating it all as if it was a joke.”

“Really?” Bin raised his eyebrows. “I don't see that at all.”

Dongmin didn't know how Bin could bypass such an error in teaching. Bin was extremely talented, and seemed to help run the school with all he had, but yet he was allowing Myungjun to not show the children the proper skill they needed to achieve fame.

“Trust me, they're never going to get _anywhere_ if Myungjun doesn't actually teach them as he should.”

Bin continued to stare at Dongmin, his expression unreadable, just as it had been days ago in Dongmin's car. Dongmin shuffled uncomfortably in the silence, wondering if _he_ was wrong, wondering _why_ he would be wrong.

Finally, Bin spoke. “I don't think it's necessary to make every single person a famous pianist. Some are cut out for it. Some aren't.” Bin picked himself up off the wall and grinned. “Walk with me, Dongmin?”

It was a request, one that Dongmin could very well ignore, and yet he was drawn by Bin's friendliness, his kindness, his absolute beauty and perfection. He couldn't help but nod his head and follow along with Bin, side by side, as they traversed slowly down the short hallway, the sounds of missed piano notes still heard in the distance.

“Most of these kids come from bad home lives,” Bin suddenly stated, glancing into a few of the other rooms. “Broken homes. Poor families. Cared for in foster homes, or orphanages, sometimes. Regardless, most of them simply can't afford to pay for a music teacher. So we don't make them pay much, if anything, when they come here. We _want_ children to learn music. We want them to develop this necessary skill in their lives, even if they suck at it. Music helps in other areas. Music gives them an escape. And having a music teacher who loves them regardless of _skill_ can mean the world to them.” Bin's eyes were soft as he gazed into one empty classroom, a cello off to a corner in the dark and music notes still written up on a chalkboard. “These are children who have nothing, Dongmin, and music gives them _something_.”

Dongmin had never experienced anything similar to what Bin was describing. Dongmin's life growing up had been lovely and perfect. He learned the piano because he thought it was beautiful; he developed the skills and techniques at a young age, and he never once considered straying from the rules. He was supported and challenged and encouraged. He had family and friends who cared for him, and he never felt as if anything was missing from his life.

He hadn't thought of music as something to hold onto desperately for a semblance of normalcy. He had only thought of music as something that needed to be studied and taught and learned after hours and hours of hard work and practice. He considered it worthless if it wasn't _perfect_ , and now he felt as if Bin was challenging all of his views on the matter.

And Bin did it all with sparkling eyes and a cheery tone to his voice.

Dongmin couldn't be mad, nor could he refute Bin's words.

“I told Myungjun, when he started volunteering here, that he needn't worry about making the next Mozart out of one of them. He shouldn't make another Lee Dongmin.” Bin laughed. “Not that you aren't a wonderful person, but there's no reason to hound _skill_ and _technique_ into these young children, is there? We know they might not even continue with instruments once their lives are back on track, but, for now, we've giving them support and a hobby, something to take them away from whatever nightmare they might be living through at the moment.” Bin glanced over at Dongmin again. “Does that make sense?”

Dongmin slowly nodded his head. He understood perfectly fine, though it made no sense to him why Myungjun would choose _those_ students to work with. Myungjun could mold possibly anyone into a fine pianist, and while people might be less willing to ask for his help after his recital fiasco, he was still talented enough to take on his own young students.

Instead, though, he worked with kids who were just lonely and wanted a chance to feel like they belonged _somewhere_.

His confusion must have been evident, because Bin stopped walking and sighed. “Myungjun feels like one of those kids sometimes.”

Dongmin blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I think he's wealthy, if he can afford to pay _you_ to be his teacher, but he's...lonely. And lost. And the piano is his getaway. Recitals, though, and fame...he strays away from them. He hates his lessons and he hates rigid rules and he hates _playing_ , he told me, but he loves playing with _them_. With the kids. And that's common for many children who aren't exactly in a great place.” Bin seemed concerned, just as concerned as Dongmin always felt for Myungjun, and he asked, “I know you're projecting onto him, but why _him_ , Dongmin? Why not some other student who would probably beg to be trained under your name. What makes Myungjun your weird experimental project?”

When Dongmin didn't answer, Bin smiled again, not at all unnerved by the lack of response, and he suddenly plastered himself up against Dongmin's side. “Let's go eat lunch. I'll pay.”

“But I-”

“Myungjun will be busy for another hour, so we have time. My treat.”

Dongmin thought of Myungjun's mother, of the expectations she had for her son, of Dongmin's _own_ expectations for what Myungjun should be doing.

And then he thought of food and friends and laughter with a man who was offering it all to him without expecting anything to change in Dongmin's life or career. He thought of sitting with someone who, for some reason, chose not to judge him a single bit, and Dongmin couldn't help but smile once again.

“Sure,” he agreed, deciding that maybe Myungjun would be just fine left alone on his own, and maybe Dongmin would _kill_ to see Bin grin like that again and again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo girl seal will be a university graduate in 4 days, now i can finally write what i want to write without worrying about looming deadlines and dates.
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter/nightmjare.com)) to teach me binu.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u follow me on twitter or tumblr, i complain nonstop about this fic. ur missing out if u dont follow me.

_Life is like_

_playing a violin solo in public_

_and learning the instrument as one goes on[.](https://youtu.be/93GHMbV1nM0)_   
  


 

One lunch had somehow turned into two lunches.

And two lunches had turned into five lunches.

And, soon enough, Dongmin was eating lunch with Bin every single afternoon.

The old piano teacher had quit, leaving Myungjun to easily and readily take over the position. Myungjun was _ecstatic_ about his new job. He called Dongmin the same night Bin offered it to him, excitedly talking about all the plans he held for the children, all the ideas he could finally bring to light.

“He didn't listen when I told him his mother would be pissed,” Dongmin said to Bin, a few days later over their lunch. “And I don't think _he's_ going to tell her, so she'll be pissed at me, probably, for not reining Myungjun in more, for not forcing him to practice and work on pieces for his recitals.”

Bin nodded his head, though he didn't understand the situation. Dongmin _knew_ he didn't understand, for it hadn't been fully explained to him. He had picked up pieces here and there, learning _why_ Myungjun had worked as a student underneath Dongmin, but still not completely grasping the concept.

It was fine that way, however, because even Dongmin didn't understand it all. Dongmin didn't know why _he_ was so adamant that Myungjun remain his student. He wanted to project his ideals onto someone, sure, but there was a plethora of other students that begged Dongmin to preside over their piano lessons, students who weren't as experimental and risky as Myungjun.

At first, Dongmin had assumed that training a student who hated the rules would show his teaching abilities to the world. If he could mold even _Myungjun_ into shape, then he could prove to his colleagues that he could accomplish anything.

But the more he spoke to Bin, the more he thought that might not be the case.

“You don't seem overly bothered with Myungjun refusing to show up to his lessons,” Bin pointed out, reaching over and grabbing some of Dongmin's meat off his plate.

They ate at Bin's place, a sudden decision made by Bin himself; Bin claimed he was tired of take-out food and wanted to cook something, for once, and Dongmin felt his heart _pitter-patter_ in his chest as he imagined eating inside Bin's home, sharing food and laughter and flirty gazes with a privacy they had never before received. He had agreed instantly, but now he wondered if it was all just a scheme for Bin to steal more of his food with the excuse of _well I cooked it_.

Because that had been his excuse the past four times he ate off Dongmin's plate.

“I'm bothered with that just as much as I'm bothered with you stealing my food,” Dongmin complained, and when Bin opened his mouth, Dongmin snapped, “And I _know_ you cooked it, but you gave it to _me_.”

Bin huffed and leaned back, though he still ate the meat he had stolen. “So you _are_ bothered with Myungjun?”

“A little bit.”

“Why?”

Dongmin shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. I mean, he's my student, and when he signed the forms and agreed to practice, it was with the understanding that he wouldn't allow anything else in life to come before the piano.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” Dongmin looked up at his new friend, who stared back at Dongmin with a smirk upon his face. “How is it ridiculous to request that a _student_ of mine focus solely on what he ought?”

Bin set his chopsticks down on his bowl and leaned forward. “I love the violin, Dongmin. I love it _so_ much. I practiced hard, too, when I was younger, in order to play the violin. I still play it, but I learned something once I was no longer in high school; I don't need to make the violin the forefront of my life. There's more important things.”

Bin had never seemed like someone who held music up as the _most_ important thing, as Dongmin did, and Dongmin found it admirable. He found it interesting, too, intriguing, because why would someone as talented and as wonderful as Bin really not make a career out of his violin? His school as definitely a noble cause, but, as Dongmin looked around at Bin's small apartment, it wasn't exactly a logical cause. It offered hardly any money and, from Dongmin's understanding, Bin lived paycheck to paycheck.

And yet he did it all so cheerfully.

He gave up his own violin talents in order to help children, and he gave up having a comfortable lifestyle in order to better his school.

It was stupid. Bin was an idiot. And, yet, Dongmin couldn't help but fall for him, marveling at his selflessness and kindness.

“Nothing is more important to me, though,” Dongmin said, interrupting his own thoughts in favor of speaking his mind. “Seriously, Bin, I know for some people, like yourself and Myungjun, maybe there _are_ more important things, but I've yet to find my happiness in anything other than the piano.”

“You don't seem that happy whenever we discuss the piano,” Bin muttered. When Dongmin stared at him in shock, the younger boy continued, “I mean, we really only ever talk about Myungjun and _his_ piano skills. I know _Myungjun_ hates his piano lessons and playing up on stage for people, and I know you hate having to deal with his flightiness, but that's all I ever hear when it comes to how you feel about the piano. We never really talk about _you_.”

And they hadn't. Dongmin blinked, realizing that Bin had only ever heard of Dongmin's complaints. Dongmin never opened himself up and told Bin more about _himself_ , more about why he liked the piano or why he wanted Myungjun to like the piano. Dongmin never discussed why he only wanted certain compositions to be played or why the recitals meant so much to him.

“I...” Dongmin started, but then found that the words were more difficult to gather in his mind than he assumed they would be. How was he to explain more about himself to Bin when _he_ didn't even know enough about himself?

He tried again. “I started, um, I started the piano when I was very young, and it's...it's been an escape for me. It's been fun. And I...I like compositions from musicians, and it's weird when people stray from that, and so when Myungjun learned how to play, all he wanted to do was add his own twist to these songs, and that's not how the source material is. It's not right.”

Bin hummed. “Why's it not right?” he asked.

“Because...because it isn't.” Dongmin wasn't sure why Bin couldn't just read his mind and instantly understand exactly what he thought. Dongmin wished, if Bin _could_ read minds, then Bin would tell him what his mind was thinking.

Because Dongmin had no idea, even as he spoke his ideals and beliefs.

“So according to you, straying from the original composition is bad. A big no-no. An error, of sorts.” Bin nodded his head, and despite how stupid it sounded coming from someone else's mouth, Bin didn't seem to mind. He smiled, instead, and nodded his head for Dongmin to continue. “So you play on stage?”

Dongmin answered, “Yes. Um, I do. _Did_ , because most of my time now is dedicated to making _Myungjun_ play on stage, which...which we both know how well that's worked out.” He hummed thoughtfully and picked at his meal. “Though, since Myungjun is now working at your school and refusing to actually come to practice, I suppose I might be able to play for just myself now.”

“Did you really stop playing just so Myungjun could play?” Bin suddenly asked. All of his attention was focused solely on Dongmin. He looked interested; he wasn't just asking questions to kill time. Everything seemed to have a purpose to Bin, seemed to be of importance, and Dongmin had not felt so valued in such a long time.

He was relieved, too, that Bin never once appeared to judge him for any of his choices or decisions. Bin accepted things and moved on with the conversation. It was a refreshing change of pace, and Dongmin couldn't help the easy smile that fell onto his lips.

“His mother pays a large sum of money for his lessons,” Dongmin replied. “She made me change his practice times, too, and now she's...she's going to pay a lot more if I can ever get Myungjun to agree to come back and begin lessons once more.”

Which he knew wouldn't happen. Not when Myungjun was so happy and cheerful and comfortable in his new position as a teacher.

“How often does Myungjun practice?”

“He _had_ been practicing a few times a week, for a handful of hours each time he came in,” Dongmin said. “But his mother asked me to make it five days a week, for seven hours each day.”

Bin snorted. “Is she serious? _Seven_ hours, really? Does she think Myungjun is Superman, or something?”

It sounded silly when Dongmin mentioned it, and he definitely agreed. He had tried to explain to Myungjun's mother that seven hours a day was too long. Musicians hardly practiced for such an extended period of time. _Dongmin_ had never practiced that long, and he absolutely adored the piano. It just wasn't feasible, however, and all she managed to do was draw Myungjun further away from _her_ hopes and dreams.

“I've told her. She thinks it's possible.” Dongmin finished his meal and sat back in his chair. “I should tell her that Myungjun is quitting. She'll be mad, though, if I tell her, and she'll remind me again and again that I failed him.”

Dongmin's plans hadn't worked. He was supposed to turn Myungjun famous. He was supposed to turn Myungjun rich. He was, according to Myungjun's mother, supposed to make his friend _worthwhile_.

But he felt as if Myungjun was worthwhile all along. The boy was charming and sweet. He was talented and smart. He was Dongmin's best friend, though Dongmin didn't deserve him at all, and there was really no reason to change him.

Before Bin could say anything, Dongmin murmured, “Even if I have failed him, and if I failed her, and if I failed _myself_ , I think it was necessary. After all,” he glanced up at Bin and smiled. “I think I've gained some sort of reward out of this.”

For the first time since they had met, Bin looked flustered.

Dongmin liked him.

 

**♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪**

 

Bin was just as carefree as Myungjun, if not more so.

He didn't mind what people thought of him. He didn't mind people whispering as he played pop songs on his violin. He didn't mind people pointing as he waved donation cans in the air to earn money for his school.

He didn't mind Dongmin sticking by his side through it all, either, passing over drinks when it became too hot or fanning him if he began to sweat too much.

“Shouldn't you be practicing?” Bin had finally asked at one point, setting down the large sign he had designed.

( _PLEASE SUPPORT MUSICALLY-GIFTED CHILDREN!_ it read in sparkly letters with pictures of cheerful students plastered around the words – Bin finished it the night before, apparently, and he had glitter in his hair to prove it.)

“Practicing what?” Dongmin reached into the lunchbox he had brought, pulling out another bottle of chocolate milk and tossing it to Bin.

Bin drank nearly half the bottle before pulling back and breathing out, “Your recital.”

Dongmin snorted. “Myungjun's the one who's signed up for the next recital,” he corrected.

“Yeah? And he's clearly not going to be doing it. He hasn't been to your place for a lesson in a few weeks. He's at the school practically every single day now.” Bin offered some of his drink to Dongmin, who shook his head politely. “You didn't have to come, regardless of whatever Myungjun is doing. You could take a day off, you know, go explore town or find yourself a pretty girlfriend.”

“I don't want a pretty girlfriend,” Dongmin mumbled.

“An ugly one, then.”

Dongmin remained silent for a few seconds, kicking at a small rock near his feet, then responded, “I don't want a girlfriend.”

Bin had no reply for him, but when Dongmin glanced over, the younger boy was smiling to himself, eyes turned down at the ground and cheeks slightly flushed.

Dongmin wasn't an idiot. It was clear that Dongmin's lack of interest in finding a girlfriend made Bin pleased, in some way or another. Dongmin _hoped_ that maybe Bin held feelings for him, somewhere deep inside his heart, but their relationship was still relatively new. He would bide his time, wait patiently for Bin to admit something, and, in the meantime, Dongmin's own feelings would have the chance to flourish and grow.

“Well,” Bin said, clearing his throat and returning Dongmin's gaze. “Since you don't have a girlfriend, perhaps you should practice the piano for a recital. Can't you take Myungjun's position?”

It was an odd change in conversation, but definitely not an unwelcome one. Dongmin was, honestly, a little awkward in the dating field. He was quite aware of it, and so he never made too much of an effort to appeal himself to men he thought were attractive. He would accept if they came to _him_ , first, but his confidence was only strong where his talents lay – piano playing.

He would wait for someone (Bin, he hoped) to ask him out, but for the time being, he would only focus on the piano.

“You want me to play in a recital?” he asked.

Bin nodded his head in enthusiasm. “Yeah! I mean, it would be better for the venue, I think, if a super famous pianist was there playing for everyone. And you also wouldn't have to withdraw Myungjun's name – you could just maybe replace it with your own. That's how these things work, don't they?”

They didn't, not really, but Dongmin didn't care to try and dispute it. Besides, he knew the man who had put the recital together. It wouldn't be too difficult to contact him and ask if he could switch around the names. He knew it would draw more attention with a headliner, after all, and he could very well force himself back into the spotlight by performing at the recital.

He could also comfort himself after losing a valuable, important student. It would be helpful, and it would give him something to do in his spare time.

(Though he found that he really enjoyed following Bin around everywhere.)

“I might be able to pull a few strings,” Dongmin muttered, and he definitely didn't miss the small grin that fell across Bin's expression. “And it _would_ give me something to do. Though,” he added with a small snort, “the moment I put my name in instead of Myungjun's, Myungjun's mother will _really_ know, finally, about her son quitting, and I'll never hear the end of it from that woman.”

“Well, that will be Myungjun's problem, not yours,” Bin pointed out. “He has to face her at some point or another. He has to cut off contact with her. He's been gaining some confidence, you know, telling me that one day he _will_ explain everything to her.”

“That's good,” Dongmin commented. He smiled gently, remembering his conversation with Myungjun just the other day, noticing how happy his friend was away from his lessons and recitals. “He deserves a better life than the one I've been giving him.” With a groan, Dongmin stretched his arms out in front of him. “I thought I'd be more disappointed with losing my only student. All I had wanted was to train him properly, to mold him into shape. I wanted him to prove what _I_ long to prove, that music is fine if played by the exact notes, the way the composers intended for it to be played. I thought he could become a good and serious pianist. The sort that goes to cocktail parties and schmoozes with other prominent pianists from across the world. And now that I know I couldn't do that, I...I don't feel failure. Maybe I just need a new student, though. Myungjun has a neighbor who is interested in the piano.”

Bin laughed beside him and nudged his shoulder. “You're terrible,” he commented. “Let's not corrupt anymore minds.”

“Hey, it's not _corruption_. I'm teaching them.”

“Sure.” Bin finished off his chocolate milk and handed the empty bottle to Dongmin, who discarded it into his backpack. “You should go home and practice, now that you've confirmed you're taking Myungjun's spot. You need to play a masterpiece, something beautiful and perfect.”

“I was just going to play what Myungjun was practicing,” Dongmin said, standing up from his seat. Bin followed suit, still smiling widely. “Beethoven's Sonata Pathétique. It's pretty, it really is, but Myungjun always got bored of that one after ten minutes of playing it.”

Bin sighed and grabbed his sloppy signage again. “I understand Myungjun,” he murmured. “Long pieces bore me to death. But I'd come see it if _you_ played it!” He laughed suddenly and teased, “I'd much rather you play something quicker, something more interesting. Have you heard of _4'33”_?”

Dongmin raised his eyebrows at Bin, then shook his head slowly. “I...have not,” he responded, confused. He thought he knew of all the piano compositions played at recitals, but the title Bin brought up was a new one. “Who composed it?”

“No clue!” Bin exclaimed, excited. “But it's four minutes and thirty-three seconds of absolute silence! It's short, to the point, and it'd be super cool to hear, anyway, at some boring piano recital!”

His laughter made Dongmin aware that it was a joke. A bad joke, albeit still a joke. “Very funny, Bin,” Dongmin responded dryly as his friend's laughter quieted down to a charming giggle. “But I'd much rather show off my actual talent, if I'm taking over for Myungjun, and I'd expect you to sit down and listen to all twenty minutes of my Beethoven skills.”

“Ah, damn,” Bin cursed, lighthearted. “Look what I've gotten myself into.”

Dongmin returned Bin's smile before taking his leave. Still, as he heard Bin shouting at random people passing by on the street to donate to his cause, he couldn't help but wonder if _he_ had gotten himself into something.

Whatever it was, he hoped Bin would stay by his side through it all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point, i dont want to take the fic down even if i hate it, so IM SPEEDING THROUGH IT INSTEAD. it's soulless and boring and unedited and i dont even care, im just trying to get it over with bc screw me for thinking i could write a good binu fic while only wanting to write myungjin.
> 
> come visit me on either my tumblr ([@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)) or my twitter ([@nightmjare](http://www.twitter.com/nightmjare)) to watch me complain


	7. HIATUS

this fic is not fun for me to write. as such, the quality has been drastically lowered. it's not fair, to myself nor the lovely audience, for me to continue to deliver mediocre work. therefore, i'll leave this fic on an indefinite hiatus. i do plan to take it down shortly and re-do it all to make it better, but for the meantime, i'll leave it up so everyone will know this fic, in its current form, will not be complete.

i apologize to those who were enjoying the fic, but please look forward to the other fics i will publish in the meantime!

 

if you would like to talk to me about it, or if you just want more information, i have my tumblr @vonseal, and my twitter @nightmjare. 

 

i love yall, and thanks for all the support!


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